Scarlet Tree
by Jennie
Summary: He broke a vow, she took a life. She escaped, he's forever left to remember.


**Title:** Scarlet Tree

**Characters/Pairing:** Wilson, Cameron, House, implied Wilson/Cameron, mention of House/Cameron, maybe some House/Wilson if you look at it right.

**Prompt: **043. Blood

**Word Count:**1330

**Rating:** PG-13

**Spoilers: **none

**Summary: **He boke a vow, she took a life.

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to lj userpinkamythest for beta-ing. This is a style that I haven't used in quite awhile, so I'm 'dusting' it off, so to speak.

**Warnings:** Character death, suicide, blood, and a hell of a lot of guilt. Oh, and allusions to inter-martial affairs and depression. Extremely angsty and dark.

"_Blood is that fragile scarlet tree we carry within us." _Osbert Sitwell

* * *

Her hands are covered in blood.

They drip scarlet pools onto the white tiles, converging together to build a lake of the life giving liquid.

_It's your entire fault_.

_You did this._

_You're worth nothing._

_He's dead because you killed him._

Plop.

Plop.

Plop.

The blood dribbles like a leaky faucet as it falls on the ground. It's warm and salty as she tastes it with her tongue, mesmerized by the sight.

She deserves this.

She deserves it all.

The plasma does not clot, but begins to flow steadily. She feels faint as her life ebbs away, but does not do anything to stop it.

This is what her fate dictates.

This is what she's meant to become.

_Absolutely nothing_.

* * *

"She took a blood thinner."

It's not consolation. More like it hurts even more, because this proves, without a doubt, that she _wanted_ to die.

"She slit her wrists. Deeply. There was nothing you could do."

_But be there_, he adds bitterly in his mind. And he wasn't.

He failed.

He failed himself, he failed her, he failed _them_.

Because...he was in bed with another woman. Because he had let himself get distracted in her time of need. Because he is _worthless_ as a human.

"It's not...you shouldn't blame yourself. This-"

"_It's all my fault!_" He roars, springing up. He's _tired_ of people telling him that he's innocent in this, that he shouldn't blame himself, that he couldn't have done anything.

He just wants it to _stop_.

_drip_

_drip_

He can still _hear_ the way the blood dripped down her pale arms as he found her.

_drip_

_drip_

The sound haunts him, follows him, won't leave him the hell alone!

They're all staring at him now. They're not used to outbursts like this. They're not used to outbursts like this coming from one of their own, coming from _him_.

He doesn't give a damn anymore.

It's worthless.

Pointless.

_drip_

_drip_

He just wants to take his son and _leave_, because that's all he's ever done.

Leave.

Go away.

Turn tail and run.

_Run, run and never come back_.

Disappear.

_(Like she did.)_

He had a chance. He had _one_ chance and he blew it. Screwed it up- screwed literally- and ended up losing everything.

He's not worth anything more.

_drip_

_drip_

He'd follow her.

He really would.

He can get the same drugs. And it would be a...fitting end. Spilling his blood, like he spilled hers.

But he's not alone anymore. He has a re-spon-si-bil-it-y. Responsibility. Six syllables. Six syllables that make his life...almost worth living.

He _had_ a career, once.

He _had_ a purpose, once.

He _had_ a reputation, once.

He _had_ everything, once.

Except her.

And when he got her...

_drip_

_drip_

It all changed.

Life held a different meaning.

He _swore_ to her that he wouldn't stray.

He _swore_ to her that he could change- that he _had_ changed for her.

And...at the time...he meant it.

But two years later, he forgot that promise, that _vow_.

_promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her?_

_I do._

He _did_.

He _broke_ that vow, broke it like the wineglass he crushed with his heel, ground it into the floor with the weight of his conscience and his actions.

She may have made the cuts.

She may have taken the drugs.

But _he_ is the murderer.

_drip_

_drip_

"You can't fall apart like this."

"You have a son who depends on you."

Same old, same old.

He _knows_ this, damn it.

It's almost as if _they_ need to say it, to assure _themselves_.

Because, damn it, she's dead.

She's dead!

Scream it from the roof tops, write it in the papers, let the entire _world_ know, because it's not like he hasn't gone through enough already.

_No..._

Just rub salt in the gaping wound.

Or, even better, let _him_ rub salt in the wound, because he sure did a brilliant job of it himself already.

"You didn't mean it."

..._That's_ different.

He swirls around.

_Him_.

Damn it.

"Sure, it's your fault. You had your chance, you blew it, you lost it."

He keeps eye contact, brown staring into blue.

"Thanks for stating the obvious," he retorts.

He does _not_ need this at the moment.

"Yeah, well, it's always been a gift. And it doesn't change the fact that you didn't _want_ to screw it all up."

Again with the screwing.

And the fact that this was a definite mock.

The flicker in the blue eyes is proof of that.

"And that makes it any better?" He spits out. "That suddenly _justifies_ it? That fixes everything?"

"No." A twirl of the cane, crossed arms, a pointed glare. "It justifies nothing."

"_Then why the hell do you torment me with it!_"

"I'm not." A smirk. "I'm stating the truth."

If he had something to throw, he would.

"I don't need to. You're tormenting yourself enough."

Damn him.

Damn him for being _right_.

_drip_

_drip_

"She was screwed up. You knew that. You married her. You're screwed up too. That's why you fit together. And then she loses a baby and gets depressed and you screw around and yeah, the situation _sucks_. But it took _two_, Jimmy. You _and_ her. And while you didn't mean it- _she_ did."

It's only the two of them in the room. Everyone else has disappeared, has no meaning, is frozen in space and time. It's the final showdown between the man who never forgave himself for giving her up and the man who opened his arms and took her in after the folly of the first.

They remained friends. Best friends. She had chosen, neither could blame her nor convince her otherwise. She wasn't something to ruin a friendship over. She simply fit in _between_ the friendship.

And then...

This.

The apocalypse of everything that meant something.

He's a shell now.

Nothing left.

And because of his actions- he's destroyed three more lives.

All innocent.

All on him.

It's devastating.

It's...numbing.

_Numb._

That's what he feels right now.

_drip_

_drip_

"I-" His voice cracks. "_I'm sorry_."

(sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry.)

If only he could say it enough times to _mean_ something.

To make up for it all- to make up for his horrendous mistakes...

He hasn't just failed at marriage, at being a friend, at being a father.

He's failed at _life_.

"Yeah. I'm sorry too." His head snaps up. "Go home, Jimmy. Take your kid, take what's left of your life and come back when you're..."

"When I'm whole again?" He asks satirically.

"No." A swing of the cane. "When you can face yourself again."

_drip_

_drip_

Will that ever happen?

* * *

He doesn't know where they are. He doesn't care where they are. They're on the coast, somewhere- the water laps up the cliffs, the air is salty, the sand crunches under his feet. It's...a peaceful form of punishment, the never-ending cycle of nature. It's freezing- it's winter- but he's not dressed for it and he _likes_ the breath of cold air against his skin, making him shiver.

When he shivers, he can almost feel her touch him.

When the droplets of mist hang in the air, he can almost see her. When the ocean spray laps up against the rocks with a bang, he can hear her laughter.

And when he holds his- their- son, he can be absolved by her.


End file.
